Chapter 25
SHE DOESN’T KNOW THAT I KNOW
Thane
“What is with that guy?” I complain as I pace around the fire pit at Jamie’s lake house later that day. I’ve successfully avoided Sera and Bradley most of the morning, but the way he’s been acting still has me tied up in knots.
Bash nods in agreement. “I have no idea what she sees in him. In just the small interactions I’ve had so far, he’s not my favorite.”
“Why would Sera waste her time on a guy like that?”
“Is he good-looking?” Jamie asks.
Bash and I exchange puzzled glances. “What kind of question is that?” he asks.
“A legitimate one. Hotter guys get away with way more than mid-looking ones do.”
I shrug. “I mean, he’s not hideous…”
“…But his personality is,” Bash finishes my sentence.
We fist-bump and laugh.
“But seriously, guys,” Jamie says, “there has to be a reason why she allows him to treat her so badly. I, for one, would tell you to pound sand if you fat-shamed me,” she says, pointing at Bash.
“I would never,” he replies. “Besides, you’re perfect. No notes, no critiques, ten out of ten.”
She sits on his lap and kisses his forehead. “And that’s why I’m marrying you.”
“When is the big day, anyway?” I ask, trying to distract my train of thought with a different direction.
“We are hoping to get married right here on the property next Fourth of July weekend,” Jamie says. “That is, if Bash doesn’t get transferred.”
Her words slam into my chest.
That was our dream.
Fina and I talked at length the summer we confessed our feelings to each other about how fun it would be to get married where it all began. And now, Bash is getting my dream, and I am watching my dream girl get mistreated by a complete jerk.
“I can’t do this,” I say under my breath. “I’m going to go for a walk.”
“Don’t be gone too long. You won’t want to miss dinner and the bonfire at the beach!” Bash hollers after me as I disappear down the trail.
I’m lost in thought when I happen upon Sera and Brad, arguing in the woods. I dive behind a bush and eavesdrop, because that’s how desperate and pathetic I’ve become on this trip.
“I can’t believe the way you’ve been treating me in front of my family. You show up unannounced, and humiliate me in front of Thane, and I’m supposed to give you a second chance?” Sera shouts. “I’m so embarrassed. Thane and my brother think I’m dating a guy who treats me like garbage, Bradley.”
When he laughs, I want to launch myself out of the bushes and punch his teeth out. “You’re being a bit dramatic, don’t you think? It was a joke!”
“It’s not funny.”
He moves closer to her and pulls her close. “I’m sorry, I’ll behave from now on,” he says, and moves in to kiss her.
My eyes divert as a gut instinct, but as I begin to look away, her body stiffens, and the peck she allows him to give her is about as passionate as when I was forced to kiss Great Aunt Ida on the cheek as a kid.
His hand moves to her butt, and he holds her tighter and tries to kiss her again. I shove down the urge to forcefully remove his hands from her body. Hell, I want to remove them from his body.
“Brad, please stop,” she says.
“You know I hate being called that. My mom named me Bradley. Use it,” he says, releasing his grip on her.
“I’m not sure why you’re being so sensitive.
I was going to wait until we were alone in Bimini to explain that that woman you saw me with was just a colleague I was schmoozing for a sales deal.
But for whatever reason, you don’t trust me. ”
“You looked cozier than colleagues normally do.”
“She’s European. They’re all touchy-feely,” he says.
I’m not sure if Sera is buying his story, but I’m not giving one red cent to it.
“Besides, you’re about as affectionate as a cactus. It’s no wonder she looked like she was crossing a line to you.” When she pushes away from him, he frowns. “Why are you being such a prude?”
Her eyes shift toward the lake house and I’m afraid I’ve been spotted. I hold my breath and squeeze my eyes shut.
“It’s that Thane guy, isn’t it?” Brad insists.
My eyes widen at the mention of my name.
Sera is a horrible liar, and my focus zooms in on her tell. She holds her breath and she bites her lower lip.
It doesn’t matter what words come out of her mouth as she tries to explain away any history we have together.
I see it in the way her fingers weave into each other until her knuckles are white.
I see it in the way she overshares and talks way too fast. But Brad doesn’t.
He accepts her explanation and marches away.
It’s when she lets out a big, reassuring breath and closes her eyes in relief that I know for sure.
Serafina Spencer still has feelings for me.
I crouch behind that bush, grinning like a fool. Nothing she says can change my mind now. She still feels something toward me, and it’s affecting her relationship with that meathead.
Good.
My chest swells with rejuvenated reserve to keep trying, and the torch I’ve carried for her all these years apart goes from a flicker to a blaze. She jogs away, and when she has disappeared down the trail, I stand and dance like an NFL player who just scored the winning touchdown.
An older couple wanders past and gawks at my weird dance in the bushes.
I freeze mid-booty-shake. “There was a bee,” I say sheepishly, and trudge back to the trail.
They shake their heads and give me a wide berth as they pass. I squelch a laugh and realize I’ve got to do something about all this excited energy breaching its banks inside of me. I wait a few minutes until Sera is far enough ahead of me, then follow her back to the lake house.
Bradley took off somewhere, so it’s now or never. I near the porch and see Sera through the window prepping some kind of dough for tonight’s dinner. I glance around and find an old rusted ax leaning up against the house and get an idea.
I find a fallen tree and drag it strategically in the yard where I know Sera can see me through the window.
Then, because this is supposed to be an attention-grabber, I pull my shirt off over my head in slow motion and flex my arms and chest muscles a few times for dramatic effect.
I glance over my shoulder at her, and she’s staring, lips parted, at me out the window.
I pretend I don’t notice and pour a bit of my water bottle down my chest to “cool off.” I’m confident I’ve got her on the hook, so I raise the ax and bring it down hard.
As soon as I start slinging, I’m filled with regret.
Not only is it harder than the guys on social media make it look, but the head on the ax flew off after only a few strikes—sailing above my head, forcing me to run for cover.
It hits the ground with a thud, and I look up at her hoping she didn’t just see the whole thing happen.
She’s laughing hysterically as she opens the window.
“You’re gonna have to try a lot harder than that to make me swoon, Donnelly!” she shouts.
“So the chopping wood didn’t do it for ya, huh?” I joke in reply as I pick up the ax head.
“I’m a classy gal, Thane. I’m more into hand flexes and grand gestures than thirst traps.”
“Mr. Darcy is the bane of my existence.” I laugh. But that’s when I see her eyes dart to my bare chest.
“My eyes are up here, Spencer,” I tease.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. But keep dreaming that I want you.”
“Oh, I know you do.” I side-step over to the picnic table and stick my hand in the glass jar of coconut oil she uses to tan, and start rubbing it on my pecs. “Maybe I’ll just… oil up and lie in the sun for a bit,” I say with the sultriest smile I can muster.
She raises an eyebrow. “That’s Crisco.”
I look down in disgust at the grease in my hand and wipe the rest back into the jar.
“Why on earth is there Crisco outside?” I ask, frantically using half the roll of paper towels on the table to clean off.
“Because someone stuck it in the fridge and I needed some softened for my recipe.”
The amount of greasy film on my hands and body is not going anywhere, no matter how many layers of skin I remove, so I march inside to get some soap. I stand at the sink, sudsing my hands and chest with dish detergent.
I scrub harder when round one doesn’t do the trick. “I still feel like a bucket of fried chicken. How on earth can I get this off?” I ask with a little more desperation in my voice than I wanted.
Sera shakes her head and pumps something foamy into her hand. “Here, try Castile soap. It works like a charm.”
She moves to wipe it on my chest, hesitates long enough to make the air between us thicken, and I swallow hard.
Her eyes bounce from my pecs to my face, then down again.
The suds slide off the side of her hand and land on my bare toes.
Both our gazes go to the floor, then back up to each other.
My pulse quickens, and as much as I try to keep my breathing under control, it slips into a more frantic rhythm.
“Uh,” she says, grabbing my hand and wiping the leftover suds into it, “here. I’ll let you do that.” Her breathy words ignite coals inside my gut.
I hold onto her hand before she can pull it away and we freeze in the moment. Her arm muscles flex—then relax—and all resistance fades. My thumb gets brave enough to rub her knuckle, and her breath hitches.
“Thane, I—“
Bradley’s voice on a phone call gets closer to the house. She pulls her hand away and moves back to her prep work.
And just like that, the spell is broken and I’ve lost her again.